


but i must admit it (that i would marry you in an instant)

by philindas



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Las Vegas Wedding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-03-10 17:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13506837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philindas/pseuds/philindas
Summary: The first thing she becomes aware of is the weight of a ring on her left hand; not exactly a foreign feeling, but not one she’s felt in nearly a decade. The second is that she’s not alone in the bed she’s in, followed closely by the realization that she’s naked, and very hungover.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a tumblr prompt fill for “we accidentally got married in Vegas oops”, and because I have not been able to find a Vegas wedding fic for this pairing which is, in my opinion, a shame! This is really only the start of a fic (as it was only meant to be a tumblr ask drabble and it just...got away from me), but I would consider expanding it if you guys were interested! So please, let me know what you thought. Realistically this is set post-s4 but without going to space/without Phil's Ghost Rider deal? But doesn't truly follow any kind of canon plotline. Title is from Cleopatra by The Lumineers.

The first thing she becomes aware of is the weight of a ring on her left hand; not exactly a foreign feeling, but not one she’s felt in nearly a decade. The second is that she’s not alone in the bed she’s in, followed closely by the realization that she’s naked, and _very_ hungover.

Peeling her eyelids apart, Melinda surveys the room; sunlight pours into the hotel room she recognizes is her own from open windows with the curtains pulled apart, and from her vantage point on her side, she can see clothes strewn across the floor. Her head pounds, and her mouth is dry; she stifles a groan, shifting a little, and suddenly a warm hand is on her hip- a warm, familiar and calloused hand sporting a new and decidedly unfamiliar ring.

Abruptly, she turns to face her bedmate, finding confused and wide blue eyes staring back at her.

“Phil,” she says, sitting up at the same moment as him, bringing the sheets with her- though modesty is the last thing on her mind, based on the bite mark she can feel on her shoulder and the pleasant soreness between her thighs.

“What the hell happened last night?” he asks, voice low and hoarse and sending an unconscious shiver down her spine. “The last thing I remember is the bar, with the kids. I thought Mack put us in a cab.”

Melinda lifts her left hand, and Phil’s eyes widen almost comically- her brain catches up that he likely can’t feel the ring, given his prosthetic, and he looks at the matching gold band encircling his fourth finger, lifting it to his face.

“That’s new,” he states, and Melinda gives a soft snort of contempt, pushing some hair out of her face, swallowing around the dryness of her throat and mouth as she winces. “You as hungover as I am?”

She nods, and Phil climbs out of the bed- Melinda’s eyes dip to the scar covering his back before he bends, stepping into his abandoned boxers and then disappearing into the bathroom. Melinda pulls her knees up to her chest, and brushes her thumb over the thick band on her finger- it’s simple, but adorned with two embedded diamonds, and she swallows hard as she looks at it.

Phil returns with a glass of water and two white pills along with a thick white robe, and she takes the pain meds gratefully, draining the glass as Phil rifles through the room.

He goes quiet as he looks at something on the table; Melinda slips into the robe and comes to stand beside him, a soft gasp escaping her lips at the papers he’s staring at.

The marriage license is plain as day, both their signatures clear and crisp- and it’s their names. Phil Coulson and Melinda May- not the aliases they’d been using for this much-needed vacation, but their actual identities, as impossible as that should be with Daisy’s identity wipe in the days of SHIELD’s fall years ago.

“Daisy did something,” Melinda says quietly, bringing his attention to her; he nods, eyes unfocused in that way he got when his mind was on something else. “Her room is down the hall from mine.”

Phil nods again, and Melinda steps closer to him, touching his forearm with her palm, squeezing gently until he actually directed his focus on her.

“Let me get dressed, we’ll go talk to her,” she outlines the plan, and Phil scrubs a hand down his face, the ring glinting in the light and causing her stomach to flip. “And then I need food. Something greasy and unhealthy and absolutely awful for me.”

“That diner- down the road from the bar we went to. They had that hashbrown breakfast sandwich you said looked like a heart attack on a plate,” Phil answers, and her mouth quirks up into a half-smile at him remembering her comment from their drive to the hotel two days prior. “We’ll go after we talk to Daisy.”

Melinda nods, palm sliding down his arm, and as their fingers brush, a flash of memory washes over her; Phil’s hand in hers, his mouth on her neck in the elevator before his teeth sank into her shoulder, causing the bite mark she can feel even now. She swallows hard, heat coursing through her as the fuzzy memory fades away.

She slips away to get dressed, trying to clear her mind and not focus on the events stacked up before her. Her gaze continually drifts to the jewelry on her finger, and her stomach jolts at the strip of gold. The thing that shocks her, though; the part that leaves her off-kilter is that part of this feels right, as out of order as it all is.

Once she’s dressed and washed her face, feeling relatively more human, she rejoins Phil in the bedroom- he takes her place in the bathroom, and Melinda finds herself staring at the marriage license until he returns.

The walk to Daisy’s room is silent and tense, and Melinda knocks three times, the raps short and sharp against the wood. It takes a handful of minutes, and finally a clearly just woken up Daisy answers the door, hastily-pulled on clothes and messy bedhead evident as she blinks blearily at them from around the door.

“Oh. Hey,” she says, voice hoarse as she rubs at her face.

“Let us in,” Melinda says, and Daisy’s eyes widen before she tugs open the door further, allowing them inside.

“Not that I’m not pleased to see you both, but-”

“What did you do to make this happen?” Phil holds up the marriage license, and Daisy freezes, lips parted.

“Oh. That,” she blinks. “Did you guys actually go through with that? You were pretty drunk.”

In response they both held up their left hands, and Daisy blinked again, exhaling through her nostrils.

“Did you know your face actually gets sterner when you’re drunk?” Daisy finally asks, lifting a hand and pointing at Melinda’s features, bridge of her own nose crinkling. “Just like that, actually- listen, you wouldn’t leave until I created the documents and made them legit, okay? And you’re my bosses and technically my homeowners? I was under pressure.”

“You’re telling us we drunkenly came in here and told you to forge real, legally binding marriage licenses at three am with our real identities- not fake ones, like we checked in under- and you didn’t find that mildly suspicious?” Phil asks, tone deceptively calm, but they could all hear the internal stress leeching into his words.

“I mean- if I’m being honest, I thought you two were a thing way back when you first brought me on the Bus, so not really?” Daisy shrugs a shoulder, cocking her head. “I just thought you both needed a little liquid courage to finally, you know- bridge the gap.”

“And bridging the gap seemed like getting married in Vegas?” Melinda asks, and Daisy shrugs again, sheepishness entering her expression.

“Everyone’s different?” she tries, and both Phil and Melinda lift their gazes to the ceiling in exasperation.

“Can you fix it?” Phil asks, and Daisy quickly shakes her head.

“I didn’t even do anything but make the document; you guys went to the judge who married you. I can’t legally marry anyone- or unmarry anyone, before you ask,” she answers, watching them exchange a look. “And annulments take weeks.”

“I’m aware of how long a divorce takes, Daisy,” Melinda tells her dryly, lifting an eyebrow. Daisy has the good grace to look sheepish, sitting down on the bed.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think the team will be shocked,” Daisy shrugs a shoulder. “Elena’ll just lose a bet, she thought Fitzsimmons would tie the knot first.”

Phil shoots her a look, and Daisy lifts an eyebrow.

“You _are_ planning on telling the team, aren’t you?” she asks, and Phil and Melinda exchange another look.

“Just don’t say anything,” Melinda says, and Daisy lifts both her hands in surrender.

“My lips are sealed,” she promises, and Melinda lets out a breath, nodding.

“We’re getting breakfast, we’ll check in with the team later,” Phil tells her, and Daisy nods before they both leave the room. Once the door shuts behind them, Melinda’s shoulders sag, and Phil’s hand cups her elbow. “We’ll fix this, Lin. I promise.”

Melinda rested her forehead against Phil’s chest, feeling his arms come up to wrap around her, allowing her eyes to sink shut as the familiar embrace encompassed her.

And that was truly the question she couldn’t find the answer to; the thing she couldn’t figure out- did she even _want_ it fixed?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I…thought you wanted breakfast,” he says, voice low and catching on something low in her gut, spilling heat down her spine. Melinda uncurls her fingers against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body under her palms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long for me to update this, but for some reason I had a very hard time piecing all the parts of this chapter together. I have a distinct direction for this story now, though, and I'm astounded by the response to the first chapter- thank you so much for your excitement, and for reading! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, please let me know what you think! Also- I'll likely be bumping the rating of this story up to either M or E for future chapters, for as a warning. I decided not to just yet, but it will be coming!
> 
> Also a HUGE thank you to Fiona for helping me with this chapter and looking it over for me!

Phil’s arms are warm and solid around her, and Melinda squeezes her eyes shut tightly as she presses her cheek to his chest. A flash of memory- his arms around her in a similar way last night- fills her mind, and she’s helpless against the shiver it sends down her spine. She knows Phil can feel it under his palms; he presses both of them to her lower back, and Melinda swallows hard before she pulls back and slowly lifts her gaze to his.

He’s looking down at her, blue eyes dark and searching as they scan her face, still holding her against him.

“I…thought you wanted breakfast,” he says, voice low and catching on something low in her gut, spilling heat down her spine. Melinda uncurls her fingers against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body under her palms.

“I do. Let’s go find that diner,” she says, pushing down the absurd instinct she has to kiss him and stepping away from him.

Phil nods, pressing the button for the elevator and clearing his throat as they waited, shoulder to shoulder.

Once they’re in the lobby, Phil is able to get a car for them from the front desk, and directions to the diner they’re looking for. The car is a small two door sedan, and as they get in, Melinda looks over at him with a small smile.

“Make you miss Lola?” she teases softly, and the corners of Phil’s mouth quirk upwards briefly as he starts the car, pulling out of the parking lot. The ten minutes to the diner is silent, Melinda looking out the window at the passing buildings.

The small off-to-the-side diner nearly catches them off guard, but it’s mostly empty when they step inside- a waitress behind the counter tells them to seat themselves, and they settle in a booth in the corner, too many years of ops in diners behind them to sit elsewhere.

“What can I getcha?” a young waitress comes to stand at their table, her name tag ironically reading Barbie as she gives them a bubblegum pink smile, blonde hair tugged back into a ponytail.

“Coffee. Black,” Phil says, and the girl beams, nodding, before turning to Melinda. She doubts they have any kind of decent tea, and she’s not hungover enough to swallow down coffee.

“Orange juice,” she tells her, earning her own smile from the waitress.

“I’ll give y’all a minute with the menus while I grab those,” Barbie tells them before she heads behind the counter. They both reach for the menus at the end of the table, fingers brushing gently- sparks flash down her arm at the contact, and she swallows hard, avoiding his gaze as she lifts the menu to cover her face.

The silence stretches between them until Barbie comes back- she takes their orders after she places their drinks on the table. She’s collecting their menus when she asks the innocent question.

“So are y’all newlyweds? Or a second honeymoon in Vegas?”

Melinda’s eyes widen, lifting them to Phil’s, who looks equally caught off guard by the question.

“Oh, uh- newlyweds. A bit spontaneous of us, really,” Phil replies after a slightly awkward pause, but Barbie merely laughs, ponytail bobbing against her neck.

“I mean, what happens in Vegas, right? Well congrats! Y’all are cute- I’ll have your food right out.”

* * *

 

The ride back to the hotel seems to fly by as Melinda’s thoughts stumble over themselves while she tries to untangle her feelings from her rational thought.

Logically, staying married when yesterday they hadn’t even been dating- hadn’t even been ready to talk about their feelings- is absolutely ridiculous. It was insane, with their work and their lives and simply the way their world was to even consider staying in a drunken Vegas wedding.

But her heart- the traitorous organ that it was- her heart couldn’t help but want to try. Her time in the Framework was still a dark cloud hanging over her, and she can still vividly remember living a life without Phil. They’d spent so long sidestepping their true feelings- creating boundaries the way they had all those years ago. And she was _tired_.

“We’re here,” Phil says, his warm hand over her jostling her back to the present from her thoughts. She realizes they’re parked in front of the hotel and blinks- she gets out of the car just as Phil rounds the car, and his palm somehow ends up on her hip, warm even though her shirt. “Sorry.”

Phil’s voice is breathless as she looks up, finding his blue eyes dark as he looks down at her, hand still grasping her hip. She shakes her head, swallowing.

“No, it’s- it’s fine,” she replies, mouth suddenly dry and body too warm.

He’s so close to her she can feel his body heat, so different from the dry desert heat around them; the scent of stale booze lies beneath hotel soap and coffee, and inexplicably she wants to wrap herself around him. Hesitantly, Melinda shifts so that her palms are against his chest, feeling his heart beat rapidly under her hands.

“Melinda?” Phil asks quietly, eyes searching her face, a hand gently brushing her hair out of her eyes and leaning closer to avoid the glare of the sun.

“I think I’m hungry for something else now,” Melinda replies softly, tilting her head up slightly; their lips remain inches apart, bodies pressed together. One of her hands slid up, wrapping around his neck as her eyes stayed locked with his. “I keep getting these- flashes. From last night. I can remember parts of the elevator, and…and you holding me, just like this.”

Melinda lifts up onto her toes, leaving merely centimeters between their lips.

“Maybe this will jog my memory,” she murmurs, watching as Phil’s eyes dropped to her mouth right before he tugged her impossibly closer and covered her lips with his. She moaned softly, hands wrapping around the collar of his shirt and keeping him close until they both part, panting.

“I think we should move this upstairs,” Phil’s voice is low and rough, sending a shiver down her spine and Melinda nods, allowing his fingers to curl around hers as they head for the elevator.

* * *

 

Phil collapses beside her on the mattress as they both struggle to catch their breath, tugging her into his chest as he settles back against the pillows. Melinda moves with him, foot over his ankle and arm slung over his waist as his hand plays with the ends of her hair.

“So,” he says quietly once they’re breathing evenly, the sound of the air conditioner the only noise in the room. His fingers trace her spine lightly, tapping against the vertebrae and drawing a shiver from her. “I’m certainly going to remember _that._ ”

Melinda snorts, smothering it against his shoulder, and tilts her head so she can see his face. She brushes her fingers over his cheek, thumb tracing along the bone.

“Melinda…” he starts, and her eyebrows knit together as she cocks her head, waiting for him to continue. “What does this mean?”

She lets out a breath, shifting a little until she can straddle his hips and rest her arms over his chest.

“What if we…don’t fix this?” she asks, hesitation in her words. Phil lifts an eyebrow, sitting up a little until their eye line is even.

“You mean…don’t look into an annulment?” he clarifies, and she nods. “You want to stay married.”

“After…everything we’ve been through. After all this time- this is where we ended up,” Melinda starts, fingers stroking over his collarbone absently as she spoke. “I know it’s not ideal, and we still have so much to talk about, and unpack, but- this is where everything’s been leading, isn’t it? So we skipped straight to marriage- it’s just a piece of paper. Rings. We can still…figure this out. Together. Can’t we?”

Phil looks at her, blue eyes searching her face before his lips quirk upwards into a soft smile.

“That’s very logical of you. Wife,” there’s teasing in his voice, and Melinda rolls her eyes, shoving at him gently.

“Ass.”

“But- legally, yours,” he replies, and Melinda smothers her laughter in his chest, feeling his hands cup her shoulders, holding her to him as he chuckles with her.

“So- are you willing to at least try?” she asks, lifting her head to look at him. Phil brushes her hair out of her face gently, tucking it behind her ear.

“Am I willing to date my wife?” the absurdity of it all shines through in his question, but his face softens as he nods. “Yeah. I am.”

Melinda smiles, and Phil tugs her up until he can kiss her, hands in her hair and bodies pressed together. He rolls her underneath him, palm sliding down her torso until he can cup her hip, and she can feel the cool of his wedding band against her skin.

“The team,” she pants when they part, and Phil’s eyebrows contract as he struggles to follow her train of thought. “I- I don’t know if we should keep this from them. After everything we’ve been through…hiding this feels wrong.”

Phil’s lips quirk into a small smile.

“It does feel like we’re hiding it from them, doesn’t it?” he muses quietly, a curious look on his face. “Funny, how that happens with a family.”

Melinda’s nose crinkles gently with her smile as her palms cup his cheeks. Her stomach rumbles at that exact moment, drawing a laugh from Phil as his head drops into her neck.

“We did work up an appetite, didn’t we?” he said, and she nods, stroking her fingers over his shoulder. “How about room service? I suddenly don’t want to leave this room.”

“I think I can be persuaded to see your point of view,” she replies, mouth pressing to the hinge of his jaw, nipping gently. Phil groans, reaching for the phone as Melinda drags her mouth down his throat. “You have two minutes, and then I stop being gentle- even if you’re still on the phone.”

Phil starts dialing faster.


End file.
